


You're Cute when you're Drunk

by SmeagolMyNeagol



Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: Cute, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of abuse, Underage Drinking, drunk, hurt jonathan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmeagolMyNeagol/pseuds/SmeagolMyNeagol
Summary: Jonathan is fearful of drinking. He's seen what it does to his father, and he is, after all, his father's son. He doesn't want anything to do with alcohol, if it would make him violent and brutal and angry like his father.Oh, and he likes Steve.Steve likes Jonathan, but don't tell him! He plans to bond with him over a nice bottle of his dad's finest liquor, but what's with Jonathan's refusal to drink?(Set sometime after the end of season 1, may or may not be concurrent with season 2)





	You're Cute when you're Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting for this pairing, in fact, first time posting for anything outside of the Negan/Rick tag. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Set sometime after the end of season 1, may or may not be concurrent with season 2)

He had never allowed himself to drink himself to the point he was at now, too afraid of how that amount of alcohol would affect him. It turned out to be a relatively small amount of the burning liquid needed before he could feel himself slip, unused to drinking and tolerance astoundingly low.

It all started with Steve Harrington. After their battle with the Demogorgon, Steve and Nancy often would barge into his room and stay for hours on end, doing homework or just hanging out.

While Jonathan was grateful for the company, and the help Nancy (and vary rarely Steve) provided on his homework was a much-needed blessing, he still found himself pausing in bouts of shyness, unused to actually having friends who were not his brother; people who cared about his taste in music and his photography, and people whose interests he found himself caring about too. It was strange, but he liked it.

Sometimes one of the trio couldn’t partake in their ill-scheduled meetups, usually Nancy. She was, of the three, the most ambitious, and the most responsible, often having to stay home to keep the house in order, or too engrossed in her advanced classes to come over to Steve or Jonathan’s place, and unwilling to bore them by inviting them over then shutting herself in her textbook while they sat around her room.

At first, Jonathan debated going over to Steve’s, sneaking through the window just to hang, but it seemed overly-familiar, and he didn’t want to impose. Jonathan was unsure of their friendship without Nancy. She was the glue that held them all together, and without her it seemed strange to seek Steve’s presence out alone.

But he couldn’t deny he wanted to. After their encounter with the Upside Down, the shift from enemies to tentative friends had resulted in some strange feelings stirring inside Jonathan.

He wasn’t gay; Nancy was still inexplicably beautiful, but… Steve, he couldn’t deny, was… easy on the eyes, so to speak.

It was fear that kept him away. He didn’t want to ruin what little good-will he had built with Steve over some attraction. But the closer the became, the more Jonathan wanted, and the harder it was to hold back.

Visiting Steve alone would only exacerbate his situation.

He had no control over Steve visiting him, though, as he found out after a week of Nancy not being able to partake in their hangouts, and the consequent week of isolation from not only Nancy but Steve as well that Jonathan found himself in.

He had gotten home from work an hour ago, and by the time he’d finished his shower and set himself on the bed to relax, listening to music, it was dark out.

The screech of his old window opening startled him more than he would admit to anyone, and he looked over apprehensively, only to see Steve slot his too-tall self into his window frame, slipping inside his room, seemingly thrown off balance momentarily by the heavy backpack on his back.

Oh. Shit.

“Hey. Want to hang?” It was a stupid question, and probably rhetorical, since Jonathan could hardly send Steve home after he had probably walked all the way in the near-dark with little more than a Letterman jacket on his back.

So here they were.

It was awkward, at least on Jonathan’s part, and he was glad Will and his mom were staying with Hopper and Eleven for the night, as a “double sleepover,” or whatever his mom had excitedly told him, thankful that they weren’t there to burst in and see him alone with Steve, a slight flush on the shorter boy’s face that hadn’t faded since the boy arrived.

But now, that flush wasn’t just the result of his ever-present embarrassment caused by everything and anything relating to Steve. After sitting awkwardly for a few minutes, Steve attempting to make small talk and Jonathan participating as best he could while keeping his eyes off the other boy’s face, Steve brought his pack forward and set it on the bed, its weight shifting the bed and gentling jostling Jonathan.

It was full of alcohol. And books, namely, the huge math textbook from precalc, but mostly alcohol.

“What?” Steve asked indignantly as Jonathan’s stunned face.

“I thought this would be a math night, or a get-wasted night, but I wasn’t sure which when I packed.” He grinned cheekily, and sat on the edge of the bed, unpacking the two considerably large bottles.

“Now I’m thinking it’s a get wasted night, you know, when faced with the choice of either that, or math.” He laughed quietly, looking to Jonathan for some support.

Support that Jonathan was hesitant to give.

“S-sure. You go ahead.” He knew if Steve got wasted, he could just stay on the couch. His mom and Will were due to come home sometime tomorrow afternoon, probably, so it would be fine. And even if Steve had to stick around, Jonathan knew his mom wouldn’t have a problem with his friend being there. She was happy to know he had friends.

“Ah yeah. This is the good shit, too.” He took a swig of the amber-colored one, not a hint of a wince on his face as he swallowed the burning liquid, before passing it to Jonathan.

“Oh, n-no thanks.” He rejected.

“Oh c’mon, Byers, live a little.” He took another swig. “You know, I’ve never seen you get wasted, in fact, I’ve never seen you once drink.” He put the bottle on the nightstand, shifting towards Jonathan, his superior height dwarfing the other as he grabbed both shoulders and shook his playfully.

“C’mon, what’s wrong with living while you’re young? Afraid you might do something you regret?” Steve’s face was now unbearably close, eyes clear despite having just swallowed more alcohol than Jonathan could ever handle, his face teasing and smile so genuine.

Jonathan just stared, face apprehensive, trying to keep the blush from being so close to Steve and his own uneasiness towards drinking at bay.

It wasn’t that he had anything against alcohol itself, he’d seen plenty of people drink responsibly. His mother sometimes had too much wine in the evenings, but nowadays when he would come home from work and see her drunk, she wasn’t doing it because of her unhappiness or the problems in her life; he could tell she was celebrating. Hopper was with her more often than not, also more drunk than sober, laughing along with her at something or other.

Of the single party he’d allowed Nancy to drag him to, he’s seen teens acting recklessly, laughing at obscenities and sloppily making out with each other.

But the thing that kept him wary and even fearful of alcohol was the memory of his father.

As a young boy, he’d come home from school to find his father in a drunk rage almost every day. The anger he had when sober was only intensified when drunk, and his anger was taken out on him, which he could find some way to cope with, but also his mother, which he could not. Thank god Will was too little to remember, and too little for Lonnie to care about in his drunkenness. His father was brutal when drunk, violent and angry.

And Jonathan had that in him. He was his father’s son, after all; he could become that monster.

So he didn’t drink. Not a drop. He was determined not to lose control of himself and become his father. If alcohol had the potential to make his father angry and violent, then surely it could influence him in much the same way.

“I-I can’t. You go ahead. I can’t.” He said shakily at Steve’s curious eyes, the taller boy’s face still too close, causing him to stutter nervously. Those eyes, god, they were endless.

“Why not?” Steve asked, brows crooked downward, intrigued at Jonathan’s strong refusal.

And maybe it was the closeness of the other boy that did it, but he found himself spilling his secret, one he hadn’t told his mother, nor Nancy, not even Will. He told him of the abuse, and how it always started with alcohol, and even when it didn’t it usually followed with it.

“I-I’m afraid to be like him. I’ve wanted to… just to try, but w-what if it makes me like h-him?” His eyes bounced around his room, unwilling to meet Steve’s after the intense confession, hoping the sudden blurriness in his vision was not the result of tears building in his eyes.

Steve just sat there, hands still on his shoulders, before crushing the smaller boy to his chest.

“Hey. It’s okay. He’s not here. I won’t let that happen again. I won’t let anything like that happen again, okay?” He pulled back, hand on Jonathan’s scruffy head, rubbing his hair.

The wells in his eyes receded, and his breaths, which he hasn’t realized were coming in sharp and hurried, slowed and calmed as he nodded blindly to Steve’s words, not registering them entirely, just knowing they were comforting.

“This might be a bad time, to say… but, uh, well,” Steve’s eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips then back up again, “I think you’re uh, well I think you’re pretty cute, guy.” Jonathan’s eyes widened, and in response so did Steve’s, a fear flitting into his eyes as he waited with baited breath for Jonathan’s reaction.

After a few seconds of intense silence, Steve released Jonathan, eyes falling disappointedly as he receded into himself, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

Jonathan stood stock still for a few seconds, before his face started burning. He brought his knees up to his chin, tucking his arms around his legs as his breath yet again sped up, this time in elation, and the awkward silence was broken by a strange half-laugh half-gasp.

Steve looked over at him then, face still locked in trepidation before brightening into a hesitant smile at seeing the burning blush and elated grin on Jonathan’s face.

“I-I think so too. I mean, I think you’re not too bad looking, yourself, y-you know,” the smaller boy seemed to curl up further into himself, his face getting impossibly redder.

“And I… kind of… like you.” At this, he hurriedly hid his face against his knees, ears betraying his burning blush.

Steve’s face broke out in a huge grin, his own face breaking out in a slight blush.

“Yeah? No joke? Hah, w-well, I, uh…” Jonathan couldn’t see it with his face hidden in his knees, but Steve’s face took on a more confidant, cocky look, his hand still awkwardly rubbing the back of his head revealing his embarrassment. He shifted closer to Jonathan, “I feel the same way,” and when the smaller looked up he swooped in for a quick kiss, pressing his lips to Jonathan’s.

At which Jonathan’s eyes widened and he jumped back, touching his lips, a smile spreading over his face, blush still burning brightly.

They sat there like that for what seemed like minutes, the silence stretching onwards, before Steve’s eyes flickered to the bottle on the nightstand. Oh right.

“You know, if you want, I’ll stay sober and you can… have at it. All you want.” He gestured with his head towards the bottle. “I promise I won’t let you… do anything you don’t want to.”

Jonathan looked over at the nightstand, his smile fading, but the content expression not wavering.

“Really? You think you can stop me from doing anything?” He said cockily.

Steve just smirked and tackled him down on the bed, his superior weight and height pining Jonathan down.

“Oh, I know I can.” His smirk never left his face as he leaned down to kiss Jonathan.

Jonathan found himself getting lost in the kiss, this one much less chaste than the previous, and he found it impossible to focus on the dilemma Steve had just presented him with.

Steve soon pulled back, both their breaths mixing between them, his weight still pressed deliciously against the line of Jonathan’s body.

“So, what do you say? Do you want to get totally hammered for the first time?”

Maybe it was the elation he was feeling from the kiss, or the fact that his secret crush returned his feelings, but he found himself wanting to acquiesce.

“O-okay. But promise you’ll stop me if I… I-if I try to—“

“I will. Don’t worry.” Steve reached for the bottle, handing it to Jonathan, “Just enjoy it. You’ll like it, promise. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It only took a few swigs before he felt himself slipping, and suddenly he couldn’t control what he was doing nor saying. It was like an out of body experience, he knew what was happening, but he couldn’t control it. It was like he was living in one of his camera lenses, the one that makes everything seem different and weird.

 

 

Steve liked Jonathan. It built up slowly but surely. Hanging out with him and Nancy had been the best thing to ever happen to him. He and Nancy weren’t romantically involved anymore, their relationship had fizzled out, but their friendship increased in strength exponentially. Perhaps they weren’t meant to be romantically involved, but she was the greatest friend he had ever known. And Jonathan.

He was different than Steve had expected. He was soft, smart, kind, altruistic. The more he got to know him, the more he could see how wrong he was in his assumptions of the boy from before.

Of course, he knew Jonathan was pining for Nancy, but once or twice he swore he saw the smaller boy look at him the same way he looked at Nancy. With blatant admiration and longing.

He didn’t know what to make of it, but he felt as if the tension was rising, and he hoped the culmination would not entail anything unsavory. He needed to see the other boy, get to know him better. Nothing brought people together like getting drunk off their asses together, so he devised a plan.

The only problem, he had never seen Jonathan drink. Even when he had snuck a little bottle of the really good whisky from his father’s cabinet into Nancy’s room one meetup, of which both Steve and Nancy took sips from, miniscule as it was, Jonathan refused, adamantly. He was determined to bond with Jonathan though, so he packed his bag and took a deep breath, determined to get drunk with Jonathan.

It had turned out that Jonathan was abstaining for a reason. Steve had to practically shake it out of him, but Jonathan had eventually come out with it.

Things happened so fast, one moment he was reassuring Jonathan he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and the next he was looking down at him, those tears and that head of soft hair, god, he was beautiful.

His confession was practically pulled out of him, and after the seconds of silence, he felt the bitter burn of rejection in his gut.

He heard a high-pitched sigh, and turned to Jonathan, who, god, he was curled up into himself, his face impossibly red and a smile spreading on his face. Oh.

Steve could feel himself smiling in return.

He wasn’t sure how he thought today was going to go, but this sure wasn’t it. This was infinitely better.

He still wanted to quell Jonathan’s fear of himself and alcohol.

When he finally took the bottle, it took only a few sips for him to get drunk. And man, a drunk Jonathan was just as fun as sober Jonathan.

“Hmm. I l-like thisssss…” The smaller boy was laid across the bed on his belly, feet and head hanging off the sides, Steve sitting at the foot of the bed, watching him writhe and squirm drunkenly.

As the night progressed, Jonathan became more and more outgoing, jumping up suddenly to change the music, wanting Steve to hear every song, then plopping down on the bed beside him, closer and closer every time.

“Y’know, Stevie,” Steve had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing, but also to control the twitch of heat in his stomach at the pet name, “I reaaaaally like youuu.” Jonathan, it turned out, was _not_ an angry drunk at all. He was one of the happiest drunks Steve had ever seen.

“Yeah?” Steve knew this, of course, having just heard it an hour before.

“Yeahh. You’re soooo…” He trailed off, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, his soft blond hair tickling Steve’s neck.

“Hmmm.” Jonathan’s arms came up to encircle Steve, his head leaning forward to kiss his neck sloppily, “Perfect… hmmm.”

Steve again had to fight the desire to both laugh and pull Jonathan into his arms and kiss him. The latter proved too hard to resist when Jonathan peaked his head around, his face so close to Steve’s, eyes unfocused, arms still wrapped around the larger boy’s torso.

The kiss was sloppy; hot, but sweet. It was clear Jonathan was inexperienced, and the alcohol obviously didn’t help.

“Thank you, babe. So are you.” He responded with an amused smile after pulling back, looking into Jonathan’s unfocused eyes.

“I think you’d better sleep now.” Things were getting too hot and heavy, more so than Steve was comfortable with while Jonathan was so drunk.

Jonathan’s face contorted into a pout, which was, holy shit, fucking adorable, but he settled into the bed, messily pulling at the covers.

Steve turned to leave, but Jonathan grabbed his wrist limply, “Pleeeaase, stay. Stevie.”

He looked back at the boy, and could feel his resistance crumbling at the look on Jonathan’s face.

He ended up curled around the smaller boy, hands latched together around his waist, his front pressed flush against Jonathan’s back as the boy drifted off in a mere few seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this. I just wanted an excuse to write a drunk Jonathan interacting and being cute with Steve. Leave a comment!


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